On Digging Deeper, Or Not

In regard to allusions and whether or not it's worthwhile to "understand" them:

NY Times: Grand Allusion

“If a poem catches a student’s interest at all, he or she should damned well be able to look up an unfamiliar word in the dictionary. . . . You can see what a nasty teacher I must be — but I do think students get lazier and lazier & expect to have everything done for them.” Bishop saw in her students’ resistance evidence of a bias against knowledge in favor of feeling: “They mostly seem to think that poetry — to read or to write — is a snap — one just has to feel..."

Bell Jars and Bildungsroman

This is a bell jar, and bildungsroman does not in fact refer to roman architecture but to a coming-of-age story.

In retrospect, I must not have had a typical literature class in high school because I didn't read "Pillars of the Earth," or "Catcher in the Rye," or "The Bell Jar". But it's well-known that Sylvia Plath is the novelist who killed herself by sticking her head in an oven.

Howard Moss argues (on Illness and Disclosure) that this makes a impure approach to the novel inevitable; you read it in the context of the author's situation, as an autobiography (though Plath admitted as much). It's interesting to compare Plath with Virginia Woolf, who also committed suicide--drowning--but whose literary merits overshadow her tragic/dramatic end. In Plath's case, it seems more like her death inspires curiosity about her work.

"The Bell Jar" is all about identity -- who is Esther? A coming-of-age novel about a woman in the late 1950s is bound to involve conflicting identities, and Plath takes it to the extreme. The book's been compared to "Catcher in the Rye" but really it's more like Kate Chopin's "The Awakening" where "women have their identity primarily through relationship to a man" (Bonds). Esther is powerless to act on her desires against the stifling norms of society (Wagner), and her subsequent madness has echoes of the Victorian "hysterics". The sense of entrapment which leads to her suicide attempt is darkly similar to Edna's end in "The Awakening", quoted here:

The children appeared before her like antagonists who had overcome her, who had overpowered and sought to drag her into the soul's slavery for the rest of her days. But she knew a way to elude them.

And this was in 1899, so it's ridiculous that these exact feelings are mirrored so closely more than 50 years later (and probably even today in some quarters).

Esther tries on various identities and friendships but finds herself more and more isolated. Much of the literary criticism on "The Bell Jar" mentions psuedo-psychiatrist R. D. Laing, whose work on "The Divided Self" explores the inner self vs outer self. We all have public masks, but Esther's is extreme to the point of insanity. I enjoyed this essay on Esther's identity crisis, specifically the idea that Dr. Nolan's character is the "anti-model" that forces her to become herself rather than adapt another insufficient role model. Going back to Laing, he viewed mental illness as a social issue instead of a biological one, since the self is always defined by others (i.e., I am what my friends see me as, and I am also what my neighbor sees me as, and I am also what the stranger on the street sees me as, etc.). This is very Foucault-ian. That being said, according to Foucault there is no such thing as individuality, so there would only be a false resolution (you only think you're not letting others define you).

This brought up the idea of something called ontological security, which is a person's sense of order and continuity in life -- the ability to give meaning to your life. Basically, Esther doesn't have this. Ontological security can be threatened by death, but if it's lacking to begin with then perhaps death isn't so scary and it might even be a welcome escape in Esther's case. This and the quote "the world itself is the bad dream" reminded me (again) of Kirsten Dunst's character in the movie "Melancholia" (so hey, I guess a woman's sense of entrapment/depression continues in the modern era).

Personally, I didn't feel that "The Bell Jar" spoke to me as it apparently did for teenager girls in the 60s-70s. As for coming-of-age novels, I adored "Catcher in the Rye" back in my younger teens. Salinger's style of writing is so much more real to me -- and maybe because I didn't study it and missed half the metaphors, I wanted to cry when I read:

And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff — I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.

Keith Richards is a Force of Nature

"Life" was way more entertaining than expected, and flew by despite the daunting number of pages (mostly thanks to Richards and Fox's easy writing style). If you're in the mood for a crazy autobiography, highly rec this one. A short & sweet review here at the New Yorker!

Minor Updates

Quick update as to where things stand moving into the new year! Still working on Gogol, mostly because other books from the library happened. Currently speeding through Keith Richards' autobiography, "Life" -- EXCELLENT. Who knew!

Checked off Jane Austen's "Persuasion" from the master booklist but I don't have much to say about it. I feel like the plot's become a cliche over time, though it was enjoyable in the sense that every Austen book is enjoyable for women. It was also fairly short -- to the point where it may have been a better, richer story if it was substantially longer. I was on a real romantic Victorian binge that weekend and watched the BBC production of "Persuasion" as well. That also gets a "meh" reaction from me, but I only got halfway through. Must try again over winter break. In the same vein, saw the newest movie version of "Jane Eyre"; my only complaint is that Mr. Rochester should totally be more beat up at the end. What's all this nonsense about "I have a beard and I'm blind, but I'll go shave and I'm getting my sight back"? I mean, in the book isn't his hand all gnarled and his leg messed up?

Plenty of book updates to follow in the new year, as I'll be stranded in rural New York for a week.

All About Death: Melancholia, The Corrections

Despite this blog being mostly for book commentaries, I occasionally need to jot down some thoughts on a movie. I've mentioned "Last Year at Marienbad" several times before (see: Sontag), so imagine my delight when I saw an allusion in Lars von Trier's "Melancholia" to the famous landscape shot! Reading this article by the excellent Jim Emerson also got me excited.

The last movie I saw by von Trier was "Antichrist" and I had such an intense visceral reaction to it -- here's a director that can make me suffer outside my comfort zone through beautiful art.

A couple things I mulled afterward:

1. I cannot agree with the statement that people and/or the world is evil. I can agree that everyone has the potential for evil ... and thus also the potential for good.

2. The main character's (Justine's) fatalism allows her to face total destruction gracefully and with her eyes open while her practical sister suffers a complete breakdown and her nephew retreats to a fantasy land. I suppose this is more of a reflection on clinical depression, because it's not as though Justine was out livin' the life before Melancholia came into view. For her this is welcome vindication and relief. I keep thinking of Dostoevsky's "The Idiot" where the condemned man is about to face the guillotine and the last two minutes of his life that he's portioned out to think about himself he instead spends staring at the sunlight's bright reflection off a building or something to that effect. I can't help thinking that right as you're about to die the world must look the most beautiful and you can't stand to leave it. So does that mean I'd rage against the end like Justine's practical sister? Well, who knows. It also reminded me of Camus' recent "Reflections on the Guillotine" which I wrote about a few entires back.

3. Given all of the above, I also pondered the fate that Justine's brother-in-law chose, which was to just kill himself once he realized the planet would hit. Spare yourself the exquisite suffering. So in that position, what would I do -- stay and watch till the very last seconds? There's always the hope that some miracle might occur and fortunes change. Hmmm. It helps to put things into less of a sci-fi planetary collision context, so on to the next topic of this post!

I FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY was able to read "The Corrections" by Jonathan Franzen. The book isn't so much about a plot as it is about people; I'll remember that family for a long time. Aside from the characterizations, it was the demise of Alfred that shook me. The thing is, he had chances to kill himself before he lost his wits (and really with that goes your identity, your person) and his freedom to a nursing home but he didn't do it. He couldn't shoot himself or stop swimming to drown. And then his very last chance to ACT (again Dostoevsky!) is to ask his son to kill him. The son refuses and Alfred is basically reduced to a non-entity. Personally, I always say that I'd rather commit suicide than lose myself to utter dementia and indignity -- who are you without your memories and consciousness? The prospect that I wouldn't be able to do that, or would put it off until it was too late honestly scared the bejeebus out of me.

So with that in mind, back to "Melancholia": maybe I'd be like the brother-in-law after all, rather than wait it out till the end to stare at the horror. But then say one does go that route, it's still the same effect; at the moment you "hear the guillotine" you can't stand to leave the world and that's why Alfred never pulled the trigger.